Ordinary Men
by Cyrelia J
Summary: France joins Austria for a smoke outside on New Year's Eve. Austria watches the world go by and France just watches him. A bittersweet melancholy romance developing slowly over tobacco. "He loves me, he loves me not." France/Austria with brief mentions of others and background Germany/Austria.
1. Ordinary Men

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

* * *

Eyes closed, leaned back against the cold brick wall, Austria doesn't see the figure approach from the right. Ear buds instead of earmuffs deaden him to the world- he doesn't hear the crunch of footsteps in the snow either. A long cigarette nestled preciously between his bare fingers finds its way between his lips. Austria takes a long deep inhalation, chest rising beneath the heavy coat. He breathes out slowly, warm breath intermingling with hot smoke, billowing around like the fog in an old movie. France smiles as he stands next to him under the overhang of the old house- Germany's old house to be specific.

Austria feels the presence next to him- smells drink and roses and something else that is just unpleasantly France. He sighs, and looks at the bricks beneath his feet thoughtfully. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the bright flame of the match as he lifts the cigarette to his lips again a touch more quickly.

"You're going to miss the great finale," France says as he watches him with a hint of tipsy amusement. Austria is visibly irritated as he removes one of the ear buds to better hear. The moment he does he hears the loud bass thumping through the glass pane next to him and he glances unconsciously inside to the loud party. Austria snorts looking away again before he catches another sight of North Italy trying to feed Germany a small biscotti.

"Yes, heaven forbid I miss Ludwig telling me that kissing me is like licking the bottom of an ashtray." He taps a few ashes to the ground, leaning harder, shifting feet uncomfortably. "I don't know why on earth I told you that. Doubtless you'll just use it against me some time when you're sober and vindictive." France chuckles softly as he too takes a drag of an unfiltered _Gaulois_.

"What makes you think I'm not sober now, little master?"

"Your breath for one... And one would think after all these centuries you'd move on to calling me something more creative. The rest of the world has, after all... moved on, I mean," he finishes softly.

"Ah, but not the darling little prince, _non?_" France moves to pinch his cheek. Austria slaps his hand away out of habit.

"There you go, baiting me again."

"Perhaps, Roderich for tonight, for the New Year, let's say I make a resolution. How about I am a complete non master baiting gentleman."

Austria chokes, nearly dropping the cigarette, half doubled over as the smoke burns his lungs. France uncharacteristically doesn't laugh but instead sighs and looks up at the bright snow falling sky.

"You are a..." he coughs again violently for a spell. "You are nothing but a..." He sucks in another breath and swallows, looking dazed, seeing spots dancing in front of his eyes. "Forget it." Austria moves to put the other earbud back in place. France catches his wrist meeting the narrowed eyes that turn to him with a look that's far too sober.

"Forgive me, that was beneath me."

"I didn't think there was anything that was." He turns away fixing his attention deliberately into the window watching North Italy dancing around with Germany. He doesn't see Prussia. He does see Hungary and Poland dancing and he sees America seemingly engaged in an odd wrestling match with himself in the center of the living room. The music blares far too loudly.

"Perhaps you?"

"What?" It takes a moment before Austria fully registers what France just said. He doesn't turn back, only watches the lot inside turning on the television holding their drinks. "Don't be stupid," he snaps without any heat. He takes a nervous drag on the cigarette. "You know I loathe the very sight of you."

"But of course, the world goes by, and the little master stands watching from behind the glass." France looks to the snow falling around them as he brings the cigarette to his lips thoughtfully. "It's like we're in a snowglobe, isn't it?"

"Did Ludwig put you up to this?" Austria takes a step back when Germany puts an awkward hand to North Italy's face, seeing those eyes searching him out in the snowfall outside. He ducks his head staring at his boots. "I've told him more than once there's nothing to feel guilty about. It isn't as if we're just two ordinary men in the world. It isn't as if I begrudge him his more... festive partners. Perhaps you ought to go back inside already. You're making me unusually maudlin."

Austria taps the cigarette again. He feels the heat of France's body behind him realizing only now that he isn't wearing a coat. Nonetheless the fingers that brush his cheek from behind, that trail the length of the cold write to the right earbud are warm.

"What are you listening to?" France doesn't wait for a response before putting the small bud in his own ear.

"Stardust," they both say at the same time. Austria feel a tickle in his throat as he takes another puff of the cigarette.

"It's not what I would have expected of you." There's a small upturn to the side of Austria's mouth.

"I suppose not but I enjoyed listening to it during the war. It was forbidden of course. But then again so were a lot of things. So are a lot of things now." He looks at the cigarette between his fingers. "I never would have imagined this would be one of them. Funny how the world works, isn't it? But perhaps if we _were_ just ordinary men it wouldn't matter."

Austria looks inside once more before defiantly putting the cigarette out on the damp brick of the house. He pinches off the cold cherry and drops it in the ground putting the last half back in his pocket so it doesn't go to waste.

"Perhaps I would live here then. Maybe I _could_ live here." He holds his hand back above his shoulder not turning to face France. "May I have that back."

"Are you coming back inside then?" Austria feels the warm smoky breath blow past his face.

"Does it matter?" He can see the clock inside reading only a few short minutes to go. The earbud is place back into his hand and he puts it back in his ear warm. He's had enough of France. _"Though I dream in vain,"_ echoes in his head. Austria laughs softly. "Go back inside, Francis. You should be able to find someone to kiss before midnight. Perhaps if fairy tales are true you'll even turn back into a prince." Austria's hand reaches up and brushes the cold brick as he moves to take one more step towards the large window watching inside as if everyone were part of a grand shadow box existing only in his own head. He starts when he feels a hand over his.

"You really must be drunk. Hasn't Gilbert told you that _Eisriesenwelt _is my heart? The fool has certainly said it to me often enough." His fingers curl on the brick and he jerks his hand away turning back around to shove past France if need be. That _gaulois_ burns brightly between his lips. It's the first time that Austria has looked at him all night. His eyes are clear, his hands lazily going back into the pockets of his jeans. Austria pulls out both earbuds shoving them in the pocket of his coat next to the music player. France hasn't spoken a word yet. Austria yanks the cigarette from his mouth and throws it to the snowy ground. "Dammit, I'm not some ridiculous pity conquest and I'll have you know that it's not me who's the-" Austria swallows when France just quietly raises his right hand, warm and gently calloused to the side of his face studying him like a master sculptor beholding his creation. "This is absolute nonsense and I won't be made fool of if Gilbert or Alfred or-" He stops talking when his head is turned, tilted, repositioned, France intently looking at every part of his face save his eyes with that deceptively lazy countenance. "It's... it's not my heart." He kneads at the back of his neck looking down between them to the thin button down shirt France is wearing wetted to translucence. "It's just some... some insignificant part of my lower back, really..."

"Then forget all of it." Austria licks his lips when France speaks again.

"Do you really think it's so easy for our kind to just..." _Ten. _France takes a step forward. _Nine._ Austria takes a step backwards. _Eight. _France takes another step forward. _Seven. _Austria remains where he stands feeling the cold steal his breath. _Six._

"Then let's say tonight that's all that you and I are."

_Three._

"What?"

_Two._

"Ordinary men."

_One._

France leans in and kisses him.

* * *

Note: _gaulois _is a brand of cigarette

_Eisriesenwelt _is the world's largest ice cave and happens to be located in Austria


	2. Cosmo

Note: This was originally just going to be a one shot but ended up turning into a series of stories instead. Once again outside, France and Austria talk over a cigarette.

* * *

"Do you think I'm cold?" Austria asks the question looking down at the glass blown cylinder between his fingers resentfully. France stands next to him carelessly smoking an unfiltered _Gaulois._ He gives a soft "hn" of amusement taking a long drag and sees with a quick look to the side that Austria still stares at the electronic cigarette and not him.

"Ask me if I think the seasons change, if the sun rises every morning over the Seine, if the flowers in Marseille-"

"A simple 'yes' would've sufficed," Austria cuts in tersely.

"_Oui_, but not nearly as poetic." France smirks as he takes another drag blowing a small ring. "But I think," he continues with a far more sober expression, "that it is not me that you refer to. Perhaps you should ask if it is Ludwig who finds you cold." Austria snorts taking a hesitant hit of the electronic cigarette, the tip lighting rather prettily in the dusk.

"Unless you and I attended two different meetings today I should think the answer to that should be rather obvious." Austria looks murderously at the e cig in his hand, wrist tense as if he might throw it. "This is for him, you know. This ridiculous offensive contraption..." He runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated exhalation, takes a moment to once more contemplate the device before shoving it back in his pants pocket, and holds out a hand. "For God's sake give me a real cigarette if you've any decency in you." France chuckles.

"How could gentleman man refuse such an entreaty?" He takes the silver cigarette case from his pocket, taking a moment to look over every pristine white tube before taking one second from the left. France allows Austria to half suspiciously snatch it from his hand just watching him for a moment. "Do you need a light, _monsieur_?" His tone is teasing, Austria taking the time to smell the sweet tobacco before giving a wordless nod. He puts the cigarette between his lips waiting for a lighter that never materializes.

Austria sucks in a breath when France, _Gaulois_ between his own lips leans in and passes the flame from one to the other mere inches from his face. Austria looks at him intensely as if remembering the cold winter air when France kissed him. Heat comes to his face. Austria pulls back quickly with a stammered 'thank you,' and presses his back hard to the building staring ahead purposefully, eyes rapidly blinking. France puts both hands in his pockets, leans back, and enjoys the silence. He listens to Austria breathing next to him, a touch more quickly at first, waiting or it to settle down into long, slow breaths, another languid indulgence of the cigarette. Austria takes that third drag with eyes half shut, fingers trembling just the slightest bit, tongue tasting his lips faintly as he breathes out with just the smallest arch of his back, a near imperceptible rock of his leg. France looks from dawn to duck, watching the sunset once more.

"He takes you far too seriously," France says at last. Austria's face screws into a confusion that France catches with a small amused smile.

"I should certainly hope so," Austria says turning the _Gaulois_ around in his fingers. France shakes his head.

"Ah but he should not. He should not take you so seriously at all." He smokes, letting Austria think about that. "I know better, you see, than to take everything you say with such gravity. It's bad for the digestion," he teases.

"I don't know why I'm even talking to you. You and I never have anything to say to one another. I've always found you tiresome," Austria declares. Inhale, exhale, a touch quicker. France doesn't miss that- he observes the quick puffs coinciding with a quickening nervous pulse.

"You should... how does Alfred say, give him his walking papers? Break up with him."

"You sound like one of those ridiculous magazines."

"Shall I tell you then, fifty ways to drive him wild in bed?" He watches Austria for a reaction and sees his fingers pause on the the cigarette as he stares thoughtfully at the tip. Austria blinks as he slowly lowers it blowing out slowly, a thin stream of smoke watching the traffic. He smiles softly into the sunset that easy brilliant _kirakira_ glitter.

"Perhaps you might show me instead."


	3. Stereo Love

Note: Thanks to all reading and commenting. No real warnings, just a little more bittersweet romance type stuff and a sort of love flow chart amongst several.

* * *

France makes a deep lazy sigh as he leans back against the headboard cigarette in his mouth.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculously cliché you look right now?" Austria looks up at him, laying on his stomach on the bed, resting his head on his arms. His eyes slip open and closed, settling for a half sleepy expression over the frames of his glasses. They're smudged and sticky and half askew. His tone, far from scolding is softly playful as the barest curl of lips can be seen from his half hidden face.

"Perhaps I do these things for your amusement, _non_?" Austria half chuckles, half snorts- a completely undignified near porcine sound- in response, his usually pale complexion flushed rosy pink as he closes his eyes thirty seconds to blissful sticky sleep. He hears France flick the silver zippo lighting the cigarette.

"Do you speak like a walking stereotype for my amusement too? Surely you realize..." Austria yawns. "that everyone else is mocking you."

France laughs softly and finds himself lightly stroking right behind Austria's ear taking a long drag of the unfiltered _Gaulois_. Austria turns into the touch with a hedonistic purr.

"Ah but it is in my nature to be amusing." Austria's eyes open just enough to look at France through bleary eyes. That small turn of his lips blooms brilliantly. He takes a breath about to speak when France makes an unusually intent study of him. Austria feels the faint tremors of sleep pull away to bring him back to full stunned wakefulness when France murmurs softly, "why do you not smile that way for Ludwig?" The smile inverts in an instant and he pushes France's hand away.

"Didn't anyone tell you it's in poor taste to talk about those sorts of things in a situation like this?" France shrugs.

"No less poor than to whisper his name while I'm making love to you." France inhales deeply, sensually. "Mmm but perhaps I can believe I had you so out of your head with ecstasy that you forgot yourself."

France doesn't resist when Austria sits up suddenly and snatches the cigarette from between his fingers.

"Give me that damn thing..." Austria takes a long drag and then there is a metamorphosis of his face turning from irritation to warm smoky bliss. It last a few short moments, turning with two belated blinks, to a screwed up look of pained disgust. He shifts on the white sheets a faint tremor going through his body. He looks down with a small bit of color to his face. "That is..." France chuckles stealing the cigarette back tapping ash into the white ivory ashtray.

"...the last vestiges of a once great empire..." he murmurs softly to himself. Austria doesn't hear him as he squirms, kneeling on the sheets. France swings his legs over the side of the raise king sized bed feeling Austria's weight dipping the bed as he crawls self consciously beside him. He takes a smoke and passes the cigarette to his left. "Shall we flip a coin to see who has the honor of sleeping in the spot?"

"I'm not spending the night." Austria draws warm smoke into his lungs running fingers through his mussed and wild hair. He shakes his head, feeling the sweat of his scalp still weighing down tangles. Austria sighs and stares at the hardwood floor eyes moving to follow the red geometry of the oriental rug. "I should be home..." He takes another drag and hands the cigarette back to France the smoke of the last few puffs passing back from the pull of the open window. Austria's eyes dart almost nervously right and he lets his hand rest lightly on France's upper arm. His fingers are stiff- taking time to relax, waiting to see if France will pull back. Austria swallows. "My clothes... are they still downstairs?"

"They will not have been picked up and laundered by 'the help', little master," France teases as he puts the cigarette out. Austria pulls his hand back, shifting legs out from underneath him.

"They're probably on strike like everyone else in your damn country..." He winces when his bare feet hit the floor and a last slow trickle of sticky wet drizzles a fading line down the inside of his left thigh.

France is already reaching for another _Gaulois_.

"The bathroom is-"

"Just my clothes." Austria's first few steps are shaky- he nearly trips on the rug. He pushes his glasses back up on his face looking to the door and not to France. "That's all I need is my clothes." He stops, absently flexing his hands, standing in front of France staring hard at the stained oak doorframe.

"Is that what you intend? To return to your lover with the scent of another man on you? With the seed of another man held possessively between your legs?" France lights the _Gaulois_ twisting it in his hand, eyes watching the light as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Truly the little master possess a woman's talent for spite."

"I never said I was going back to that home... Francis..." Austria takes a few more slow steps head still down. He lifts it, eyes adjusting to the dark of the hallway, waiting for the room's light to illuminate more than shadows. "I'm going back to my home. It's been far too long since I've been back there."

France's fingers tense around the cigarette and he looks up at Austria's naked back seeing snow falling on the mountain tops.

"Do you even know the way back?" He rises slowly.

"I can find my own way." Austria's shoulders are stiff as he turns his head back around. "Even in the dark I can... I don't always need Ludwig or Gilbert to bring me home." He looks surprised to see France suddenly next to him.

"What if I ask you to stay?" France leans in and kisses the corner of his uncertain mouth. Austria's eyes close gently and he breathes in tobacco and roses. His fingers touch his face where the soft stubble of France's chin had brushed.

"Why on Earth would you ask an impossible thing such as that?" He smiles cynically. "Surely my performance in bed must pale in comparison to-" Austria appears indignant as the end of the cigarette is shoved between his lips to quiet him. He looks at France curiously, turning the rest of his body back around. France shakes his head with a rueful smile.

"I think that I shall ask you again when you understand why." Austria takes a drag on the _Gaulois_ and holds onto it letting the implied invitation sink in.

"My light... in the darkness then," He says raising it with the ghost of a smile. "You don't need to see me to the door, to the train, to anything but the top of the stairs." He turns around abruptly stepping with newfound purpose. France pauses midway to retrieving his robe from behind the door.

"Surely you'll be lost?" he says concerned. Austria smiles into the darkness where it cannot be seen.

"I was born lost," he calls from the other end of the hall, "and take no pleasure in being found."

"Steinbeck," France says caught off guard. He laughs. "I would not have expected such a sentiment from you."

"Then it would seem you have far more to learn about me than you think." The voice disembodied with indefinable emotion retreats down the stairs and France catches himself in the doorway inexplicably drained. He takes a rose from the slender ceramic vase nightstand petals slowly wilting over the ashtray.

France pulls a gentle dying piece letting the wind pull it from his fingers.

"He loves me not..."


End file.
